I
have so many pleasant memories I really don't know where to start. George's
tale really reminded me of lots of things. One that included George was
the year I went down with the Bull Gang - the crew that usually went about
three weeks before camp to officially open camp, to tidy up the whole area,
do odd jobs that needed to be done, etc. One of our tasks was to install
the handrail across the dam. (Editor's note: That would have been the new
camp.) For those who don't know, the dam was about nine feet above the
rock bed of the creek. My memory tells me it was about 125 to 150 feet
across (help). We had to drill holes about six to eight inches deep into
the rock dam with star drills and hammers (builds good shoulder muscles
we were told). Things went well, but as you might expect a group of about
15 became bored and looked for some entertainment. Softball was the name
of the game. After a while we decided we needed someone to play, so on
one of the supply trips into Richland Springs, our leaders told the Richland
Springs folks they had a team of Boy Scouts who wanted to play a game of
softball.

The game was set up and when
we went to town, we discovered they had lined up a girl's team to play
the 'young' scouts. When they saw our team, things changed as we were all
in high school; three from Eastland had been on the Eastland All State
Baseball team. George Day, who you remember pitched a pretty mean game
for the Brownwood First Baptist team (coached by Myron Embry), pitched
for our scout team that night. Richland Springs had been scheduled to play
Rochelle or Winchell, I don't remember which, but they were allegedly the
toughest team in their league. When the dust cleared, George had pitched
a great game; the three fellows from Eastland had sealed off the infield
and our little scout team won 25 to 2.

Toots Gilliam taught me well.
Early in my Air Force career I was assigned to the Department of Athletics
at the USAF Academy. One of my jobs was Director of the swimming program
to teach the non-swimmers, water sports, diving, etc. Toots was a great
teacher and his training and my experiences at Camp Billy Gibbons served
me well.

This story was taken from
the Brownwood High School Class of 1947 newsletter "The Roar of '47", newsletter
#8, Fall, 1999, edited by Jim White.